Will wants to ask questions, but before he can, the entire tent seems to be rejoicing at the news of Nico's speedy return to health. Maria and Bianca wake to crowd him, yet try to keep the others at bay. Dozens of people, young and old, in sickness and in health, stagger over to their leader as they touch and praise him.

One older man, Will places him at about sixty or so, uses a crutch to propel himself over to Nico's side. The man gets bumped and tripped by the masses, but suddenly, Nico holds both hands and the group immediately quiets down.

Will wishes he understood Italian as Nico beckons the man forward with kind words, patting the cot to tell him it's alright to sit.

The sea of people parts at this command. The man hobbles forward.

As Nico would later tell him, the conversation goes something like this:

"Teacher," the man says in a similar dialect to Nico's, "We are all so happy to see you are awake and well."

Nico smiles and leans forward to take the man's hand in his own, "And I am even happier to see you all in a similar state. How is your leg, my friend?"

"It is healing slowly, but I am so old, it is a miracle it is healing at all!"

The crowd breaks into laughter at what the man says. Will feels pushed out, but makes no move to push back in. There is no doubt in his mind that it's all Nico can do right now to comfort his people. And they seem to be comforted. The air around the group is more joyous than it was when Will was here the day before. Even the tired and the sick seem in better spirits.

"You are only as old as your spirit, my friend, and so you are very young indeed. All of you are," here Nico catches the attention of the whole group, "And you should all be proud you have made it this far. We will not let the stars and stripes withhold our freedom now!"

The crowd cheers, smiling and laughing. They seem to congratulate one another, and on that note, disperse. A few stragglers, the old man included, come up to Will and whisper fervent, foreign blessings and praises to him. He wishes their praises wouldn't fall on deaf ears to the language. They all speak so beautifully.

Maria and Bianca are still crowding Nico, but after another firm word, back away. Will is now being called forward.

"Doctor," Nico says, his accent rolling over the word beautifully, "I'm afraid I did not have the opportunity to catch your name. I'm sure you already know mine."

"Captain Will Solace of the U.S. Army." Will says. He can't help but add, "Your humility knows no bounds."

Nico chuckles and offers a wry sort of smile, "If that is what they call infamy now, then surely I am the most humble man known to all the Fascists in Italy."

He breaks off into a dizzy pitch forward. Will rushes forward and catches him before he can topple off of his cot. Maria and Bianca look on, worry plain on their faces. They do not try to interfere though, as Nico holds up a hand to stop them before they can.

"Do you think this will happen often, Captain?" Nico says. Will doesn't answer right away, choosing instead to get the revolutionary a drink from a nearby canteen.

"Despite your, dare I say it, miraculous recovery—,"

"I am full of miracles, Captain."

"—your body is still trying to fight the infection off. The penicillin you were given did most of the heavy lifting, thank the good Lord, but you need to take it slow. No leading revolutions or uprisings anytime soon."

Will lets go of Nico, who settles back into the pillow, "And how long are we talking? I'm sure every soldier here is waiting for me to make my big escape. I can hardly disappoint."

"You owe me at least three days." Will says, voice firm.

Nico tilts his head to the side, "I think I could manage three days."

Will opens his mouth to say more, ask a question maybe about how a kid (he is a kid—19 years old and already leading his people to safer ground, their Promised Land) like him gets into such a place of power, but he's interrupted. The door to the tent slams open and in marches a few familiar faces.

Will recognizes Grace right away, who is walking half a step behind Octavian Simmons, a Major in the British army. He's the British officer Will's unit has the most contact with. Will's theory on this is that Simmons is the officer the Brits can spare—Will knows he certainly wouldn't have a problem loosing Simmons. And yeah, he knows that's kind of harsh, but Simmons, as the Brits say, is a real prat. Will isn't quite sure how Grace puts up with him.

A step behind Grace is Percy and Captain Frank Zhang, stationed with a small Canadian unit staying the Brits. Will likes Zhang. He's a swell guy, and one of the only men in camp who knows any manners at all. However they raise them in the Great White North, they're doing something right.

"Ah," Nico says when he spots them coming, "the cavalry has come for me at last."

He has a surprisingly good grasp on English idioms and Will continues to wonder where exactly he learned the language. He has a slight accent when he talks, but Will can't decide if that's from the Italian or the dialect of English he picked up. Will tucks the question away in his mind, adding it to the growing list.

There is a small girl, maybe five years old, in the aisle where the officers walk. Simmons shoves her out of the way with his boot. Will looks over to Nico, his expression hasn't changed but his jaw has clenched a bit. He does not cry out.

It's a test, Will thinks. A test Nico di Angelo intends to pass.

Will salutes when the party comes close enough. He doesn't want to salute Simmons, but he doesn't have a choice. Simmons still outranks him.

"At ease, Captain," Grace says.

Nico sits up and gives a mocking salute. Octavian sneers.

"It would be in your best interest to be polite to the people that decide what to do with you." He says. He's a real smarmy bastard, Will thinks.

"I'm sure. However, it would be in your best interest to try and refrain from hurting any more of my people. Italians can keep grudges for centuries."

Nico has a perfectly reasonable expression on his face, but his tone suggests he's toying with Octavian. Will hopes he is, because Simmons darn well deserves it. Will doesn't think he's ever hated a person so much. Except maybe Hitler.

But he's never met Hitler, so Octavian Simmons seems like the Devil himself.

Simmons opens his mouth to retort, but Grace swoops in before he can say something fat-headed.

"Mr. di Angelo, we have a few questions for you. Just answer them and we'll leave you enough alone. Do you think you can do that for us?"

"I will do my absolute best…I'm afraid I didn't catch your name, Lieutenant Colonel?"

Grace seems surprised by this question, but composes himself in an instant. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Jason Grace. This is my second in command, Major Perseus Jackson. This is Major Octavian Simmons with the British forces, and Captain Frank Zhang, with the Canadians. Does this answer your question, Mr. di Angelo?"

Nico nods, pleased, "Yes, thank you, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Now if we could get started; Captain Solace, you're dismi—,"

"Oh, please, let him stay. My doctor says I am still sick and will require medical attention for the next three days. I may need him around for a while."

Grace deliberates on this. He turns to Percy and they whisper between each other for a few moments. Simmons doesn't look happy with this proposition, but Zhang seems indifferent. Will is a little surprised himself, but it makes sense why Nico asked him all those questions. He needed something to go on, but why would he ask Will to stick around?

"Very well. Captain, take a seat, you can stay." Grace says after a few minutes.

Nico turns to his sister and mother, who are still crowded by their cot. They look at the officers with skeptical expressions on their faces. Bianca looks scared. She holds her mother's hand tightly.

"Mama, Bianca, prego tendon agli altri."

"Nico—," Bianca says, looking worried.

"Prego, vai." Nico says, and without another word, Bianca and Maria step around the officers and leave to go tend to the others.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Grace says. He pulls a small stool over and sits. His bulk looks ridiculous, being forcefully contained as such, but he still manages to command the room, er, tent.

Percy will do the interrogating, Will knows. Grace can command a room, but Percy is a people person. Grace already has a pencil and pad of paper out to write down everything Nico says for future reference.

"So, Mr. di Angelo," Percy says in a cordial tone of voice, "Could we ask your full name, the names of your immediate family members, and your date of birth?"

"Of course, Major." Nico says, "My full name is Nico di Angelo. My mother's name is Maria Angelina di Angelo and my sister is Bianca Francesca Maria di Angelo. I was born January 28th, 1924. My sister was born in 1922."

Grace scribbles down everything he says. Zhang does too. No doubt the Canadians are worried that the Americans won't share.

"You're 19 years old?" Simmons asks, like he doesn't believe Nico.

"The last time I checked." Nico says, a simpering smile on his face.

"What about your father, Mr. di Angelo? I didn't hear you mention him." Percy continues before Nico and Simmons can continue their verbal sparring.

The smile melts off of Nico's face. It's suddenly obvious to everyone that Nico's father is sore spot for him. Will realizes they're going to use that against Nico in the future and feels the need to warn the young revolutionary, but doesn't have a way to.

"My father's name is Hades Notoriano. He's an American, like you Major, Lieutenant Colonel. He came back to Italy to find his heritage. He met my mother and stuck around long enough to have me and my sister. He and Mama never married. I haven't had contact with him since I was eleven years old. Is that enough information?"

Nico sends a glare towards Percy that makes the hair on the back of Will's neck stand up and a shiver run down his spine. Percy, too, looks a little uncomfortable and shifts under Nico's gaze.

"Yes, Mr. di Angelo," Percy clears his throat, "that's sufficient. Could you tell us a little about how you came to your position?"

"You mean how I became a revolutionary and, according to the Fascists, a wanted war criminal?" Nico laughs, dark and cold, "Of course you do.

"These are the people of Rome who the Fascists want dead, mostly Gypsies and prostitutes and the homeless, as well as homosexuals and people who simply don't agree Mussolini. I decided one day that I no longer wanted to be part of a country that let soldiers kill anyone they didn't think deserved the right to live. So, I began preaching in basements of houses and behind mausoleums of cemeteries.

"At first, only a few people came each time, but word spreads quickly. The only reason I had such a following was because my words did not reach the ears of the soldiers and politicians in Rome."

"And, if I may interrupt, what did you tell these people that came to you?" Percy asks. The group of officers are enraptured with the story Nico tells, just as much as Will is. Even Octavian keeps his mouth shut.

"Much of what I have already told you, Major. That they have the right to live in a safe world where their peers do not try to kill them for being different. The people of the land are the sheep, and the leaders are the shepherds. What happens when an animal is mistreated? It runs away and finds a new master. I happen to be the new master they have chosen."

"All of these analogies aside, Mr. di Angelo, what we want to know is why they have chosen you." Percy says.

Nico shrugs, "I have delivered on all of my previous promises. I promised them I would get them out of Rome and into new fields, and here we are. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you."

"I think we will be the judge of that," Simmons says in a sharp tone.

"You misunderstand, Major," Nico says, "It is not in my best interest to keep talking to you. Yes, the United States of America has been kind to us so far, but only because it is in their best interest. It makes them look good. How much longer will that be? I cannot be sure, so I have to keep the best interest of my people in mind when I talk to you. They depend on me just as much as you depend on your presidents and prime ministers to make the right decisions. I would like to keep their trust. If you have any further questions, I'm sure you can come to your own conclusions."

Simmons is cut off from saying anything by Grace, who gets to his feet in a sudden manner (it looks as though no one wants Simmons to say anything that would get the Allied Forces on Nico's bad side), "I'm sure we can, Mr. di Angelo. Thank you for all the questions you've already answered."

Grace turns around and gestures for Percy to follow him. Percy does, after a second of giving Nico a strange look. Zhang follows without another word. Simmons gives both Nico and Will a sneer and marches off after the other officers.

Nico, when Will looks at him, has a pleased sort of expression on his face like he's the cat that got the cream. "I think that went rather well. I won't get you in trouble for that, will I?"

Will shakes his head, touched by Nico's concern for him, even though they barely know each other, "Nah. Why did you ask me to stay around, if you don't mind me askin'?"

After a moment's hesitation, Nico says, "I thought that if they thought I was ill enough to need a doctor, they would be more considerate with the questions they asked. I don't know if that succeeded or not, but it didn't hurt."

They're left staring at the door the officers disappeared through at the other end of the tent in silence.

"I should get going," Will says, collecting himself, "I need to check on some other patients."

That's a lie, but he doesn't know how he could otherwise excuse himself.

Nico turns to look at him, his head tilted. His eyes are so dark, Will notices again, and his lashes are so long. Like a girl's. The young man brushes a strand of long, dark hair behind his ear with the sweep of a few fingers.

"I'll be back after lunch, though," Will finds himself saying, as a way to amend something, but what he doesn't know, "to check your vitals and make sure your fever hasn't returned."

At this point in Nico's recovery, there isn't a reason the fever would return. Will doesn't even know what he's saying anymore. He really just needs to leave. And get some food in him. And take that piss.

"Very well, Captain Solace. It was nice meeting you."

"And you!" Will says, "I'll see you soon."

"So I will." Nico says, before reaching over the side of the bed to retrieve his Bible. He turns all of his attention to the book, so Will feels dismissed.

He exits the tent and heads to the latrine.

.

He makes the tail end of breakfast. Travis is sitting at their regular table, drinking shit army coffee and reading a report.

"Morning, Sunshine," Travis greets. Will rolls his eyes at the nickname and digs into his powdered eggs.

"Have you heard the big news yet?" Travis asks. Will shakes his head, "No, I've been with a patient all night."

"Uh-huh, sure, a patient."

"Jesus Christ, Travis. Not like that."

Travis rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything else on the subject, "The Allies bombed Rome last night. A couple of planes from the other American division with us and a couple of British planes."

Will almost chokes on his stale toast. A cold feeling settles in the put of his stomach. "Rome?"

"Yeah, Will, why do you think we had to take this postage stamp of a place anyways? It was to get to Rome."

Will swallows and gives what he hopes is a convincing smile, "Oh. Good."

He wonders if Nico knows yet, and then realizes that Nico has only been awake for a couple of hours and Will was with him that entire time. The cold lump in his stomach grows.

"S'good news though," Travis continues, though Will is sure he doesn't want to hear the rest of the sentence, "Damn krauts still have most of this island. If all goes to plan, we take Palermo in the next two days. I think we pack up tonight."

Will finishes his breakfast and downs his coffee, "Guess I better go gather up my things then."

He picks up his tray and heads for the exit. He can hear Travis singing that old song from the First World War behind him, "Pack up your troubles in your old Kit-bag and Smile, Smile, Smile…,"

.

He runs into Grace on the way to his bunk. He can just start to see the beginnings of everyone starting to pack up and move out, off to fight the next battle. Their unit is probably just the reinforcements. In fact, Will is pretty sure he'll be with the last few groups to leave camp and head to Palermo. He'll be with all of the wounded, and probably the Italian fugitives.

Nico. He'd probably be with Nico.

Will goes to salute his commanding officer, but before he can, Grace says, "None of that for a minute, Captain. I need to talk to you for a moment not just as your commanding officer but as your friend."

He hopes his confusion doesn't show on his face, but it's hard not to look at least a bit surprised. Sure, he sometimes talks to Grace about baseball or their respective hometowns (Grace is from Hollywood, Will hails from just outside of Austin) and the like but he wouldn't go as far as to call them…friends.

"Nico di Angelo is a character, isn't he?" Grace says in a conversational tone. Will isn't fooled for a second, though. He had figured this was coming.

"I guess," Will says, "Is everything alright, sir?"

"Fine, fine," Grace says, "but I know you know I have a lot of duties to attend to, with this move to Palermo and all. And we both know you'll probably be staying with the wounded and the fugitives, so I was going to ask if you wouldn't mind…keeping an eye on things for me."

"You want me to spy on Nico for you." Will looks him straight in the eye. At this, Grace's shoulders slump a little and he sighs, "Yeah, I know. It sounds awful. This is why it isn't a direct order and more of a favor. From one friend to another."

"I thought we were supposed to be friendly to the Italians. Make a show of helping the rebels."

Grace looks a little pained, "We only have to be friendly if they're being friendly right back, and can you honestly say what di Angelo did back there was completely friendly?"

"He's trying to protect his people, can you blame him?" Will says in a quiet voice.

"No," Grace says. He sounds defeated which gives Will a feeling of accomplishment. "But I still have orders from up top, and I don't want to be that asshole who makes you do this because I outrank you. I want you to do this for all the boys we'll save with this information."

It's Will's turn to grit his teeth and sigh, "Alright, sir."

Grace perks up at this, "Glad to hear it, Captain. Whenever anything of interest comes up, just flag me down, ok?"

He does wait for Will's affirmation, just squeezes Will's shoulder and walks away.

.

He manages to busy himself for the rest of the morning, and get through lunch without feeling like he's going to puke every time someone mentions the bombings or Palermo. The conversation around the lunch table makes things somewhat bearable.

Percy tells some awful joke, and Grace is the only one who finds him funny. That's usually how it works. Sometimes, Will feels like Percy Jackson and Jason Grace are two sides of the same coin. Percy is out going, adventurous and brash like all city kids are, and then there's Grace with his rules and regiment, but both men have morals stronger than steel. They're loyalty to their cause, and more interestingly, to one another, has no fault.

They work so well together it's endearing. Grace actually looks and sounds like a real human being when he's around Percy, not just the emotionless brick wall the army has made him into.

Whatever Percy sees in Grace, Will's glad he sees it. Will knows Percy sees whatever it is often enough to make an excuse to sneak out of Grace's tent at o'dark thirty plenty of nights, whistling The Star-Spangled Banner as he limps to his own tent.

Will's the last person to judge, though. If the smiles the two share, and the brushing of hands and being glued to the other's hip makes this war bearable for them, then let them have it. Let something make this experience in hell a little better for them.

When Will gets up to leave the table, he doesn't make eye-contact with Grace. He dumps his tray and strides out of the tent. He tries to clear his head on the walk from the mess tent to the one Nico's in. If he's going to do this, he has to have his nerves in check. Nico di Angelo seems like the kind of person to see right through a person.

The people in the tent have gathered in clusters, eating the food that was brought to them and talking. Some play a game of cards with a ratty deck, and others read from family Bibles. When he passes some groups, people wave to him and wish him well in their native tongue.

He's surprised when he sees Nico. From the time Will saw him that morning to now, Nico shaved and washed up a bit. His hair is pulled back from his face and tied in a leather strip. Someone gave him a clean American uniform to wear and standard issue boots. All he's missing are dog tags and a haircut and he could one of them. A soldier.

He is a soldier, Will thinks after the fact, just not one of ours.

"Afternoon, Captain." Nico says when he approaches.

"Afternoon." Will says, "You've been busy I see." He gestures to the uniform with a weak wave of his hand before sitting down on the stool by Nico's bed.

"Hardly," Nico laughs, "My mother will barely let me out of her sight. I had to say grace sitting on this damned cot."

That makes Will smiles. "Wrist, please. I need to check your pulse."

In a few minutes, Will checks all of Nico's vitals. All healthy. Like God himself performed a miracle overnight and Nico di Angelo survived to fight another day. Truth be told, God was probably smiling down on Nico right now, proud of all the things he'd accomplished.

"Have you heard the news of Rome?" Nico says. It startles Will, how easily Nico approaches the subject, but then again, a lot of things about Nico surprise Will.

"Yeah. Who—?"

"The corporal who gave me this uniform opened his mouth a bit too wide and let it slip. I have a feeling I wasn't supposed to hear that." Nico says.

"Have you told them, then?" Will asks. Nico follows his gaze to the masses; his followers carry out their business like normal.

Quietly, Nico says, "Do you think they'd be so peaceful if I had told them? A leader has to carry a burden for his people, and sometimes that burden is knowing too much."

The wisdom of Nico's words sinks in, and Will goes back to the conversation he'd had with Grace earlier. Grace is doing what he has to to keep his men safe, Will thinks, but so is Nico.

And I'm stuck in the damn middle.

"What do you think of it, the bombing?" Nico asks after a minute.

"I'm not sure I could give you an answer," Will says, "I don't know much about war and people keep telling me I'm too peaceful to have ended up in one."

Nico gives him a strange look. Then, a smile breaks out over his features. It's small, an upwards curve of his lips. He gives Will a thoughtful nod, "A good answer. I believe I can trust you, Captain, to help me keep my people safe."

The blood in Will's veins goes cold and for a moment he can swear his heart has stopped beating. The last thing in the world he wants to do is betray this man's trust. If there's anyone who deserves it, it's Nico, not Grace.

He puts on a smile, the big grin he had before the war. It feels rotten on his face.

"I feel honored to earn your trust," Will says. He feels sick to his stomach, "And the trust of your people, along with it."

He can feel the bile rising in his throat.

"And please, call me Will."