"That sounds like them," Billy called out a couple of hours later. Machiavelli hit pause on the TV and wandered over to where Billy sat beside the big front window. He leaned into Billy for support as the two immortals watched Black Hawk's jeep pull in from the main road. "Come on angel, you want to go see them?" Billy asked, picking up Machiavelli.
The Italian nodded, his face leaning close to Billy's so that they were touching at the temples. Billy could feel the fever rolling off of him as they waited on the front porch for the others to park and come up. "I wish you felt better, baby." He swung him back and forth in a gentle rocking motion.
"I remember this place," Black Hawk called to Billy as he climbed out of the Jeep. Meeting each other half way, they gave each other a brotherly embrace, Billy looping one arm around Black Hawk's shoulders. Black Hawk was looking at Machiavelli. "I hear you're sick," he said carefully to the Italian. The Italian nodded shyly and clutched at the outlaw. Billy bounced him in his arms before setting him down on the ground.
"He's getting bigger, isn't he?" Billy exclaimed happily. He looked over at the jeep where the other immortals had gotten out and if anything, his smile widened, seeing the familiar flash of reddish brown hair. "Scathach! You're here now too?" He threw his arms around her as she came up, twirling her in a circle. "I haven't seen you in a long time."
Scathach gave him a tight smile, revealing her pointed teeth. "Billy," she said fondly. She looked over at the boy, half hidden behind Black Hawk. Machiavelli's reluctance to see the Shadow had apparently overcome any reservations he had towards Black Hawk. For once, the Native American immortal didn't say anything, just let the boy be. "Is that really Machiavelli?" she whispered to the American.
Billy followed her gaze over to the Italian. He smiled. "Sure. Did you two know each other? I didn't know that." He called over to the Italian. "Hey Mac, come over here!"
Machiavelli came over somewhat reluctantly. "Miss Scathach," he acknowledged politely. He reached up and grasped Billy's hands, still hiding behind most of Billy's body. The American looked between the immortal and the vampire, confusion blooming on his face. "Have you met before?"
"Well, we just recently were on opposite sides in Paris. And he sent me to a shadow realm with Joan. But before that I sent him through a door," Scathach explained. She settled her hands on her hips.
"It took forever to get all the splinters out," Machiavelli mumbled.
The Warrior knelt before the boy. "Still, I think we're probably even now, wouldn't you say?" she asked the Italian.
Machiavelli thought for a moment. "Yes, I think we might be." He smiled at her. He extended a hand out. "Truce?" he asked her.
"Truce." She shook his hand. Machiavelli moaned and touched his face, obstructing the sun's glare from his eyes. "Are you all right, kid?" The Italian shook his head and sneezed loudly. Scathach ended up with a slightly wet hand. She grimaced and muttered under her breath, "Sealed with a kiss, I see."
"Ohh," Machiavelli moaned. "Sorry," he told her, but as Billy handed her a patterned kerchief, the American could swear that there was a small smile on his face. Billy picked him up again, but gave him a slight pinch that told him he hadn't gone undetected. Still, Billy had a sly grin on his face when they went back to the cabin, telling Machiavelli that the American had found his actions amusing more than anything else.
~MB~
"Come on, Mac," Billy said after dinner. He came up behind Machiavelli, who was sitting by the window. The Italian looked up at him questioningly. "I think I'm going to put you in to soak."
Black Hawk whispered to Scathach, "I think that means he has to take a bath."
"Really?" she replied. "I thought he was going to try to get a tough stain out," she whispered back. Black Hawk laughed. The two immortals struggled to muffle their laughter. Machiavelli glanced over at them before focusing on the American.
Machiavelli leaned to the right. "What if I fall asleep in the water, Billy? What if I drown?" he asked sleepily. He dawdled by the window. Billy steered him in the direction of the upstairs bathroom.
"You're not going to drown," Billy told him patiently. Machiavelli seemed to be having trouble lifting his feet, so Billy caught him under his armpits and lifted him. They were at bathroom now. "The end of the tub's sloped. I'll lean you back." Billy began to fill the tub. He glanced behind at the boy, who was struggling out of his clothing. Falling back on his heels, he drew the Italian closer to him and helped pull the shirt over his head. The American lifted him into the tub and settled him in. "I'll be back in about ten minutes to pull you out, love." He ruffled the boy's hair.
"Okay," Machiavelli said faintly. Already, the hot water seemed to be helping him breathe easier.
Billy looked at him for a moment, then padded down the stairs to join the other immortals who'd dispersed themselves onto the chairs on the front porch. He settled into place next to Black Hawk. The Native American immortal offered him a beer which Billy declined.
"You sure it's the best idea to leave him in the tub alone?" Black Hawk wanted to know, taking a swig of his own beer.
"I'll check on him soon. The water's not that deep," Billy defended himself. He looked around the group. "So what's everybody been doing?"
Perenelle sipped from her glass of wine. "Resting. Nicholas has been making the elixir again. And then we made contact with Scathach and the others when they came back to our time."
Scathach took up the story, explaining how the immortals had stayed at their cottage for a while before heading back to their respective homes. "Although, Palamedes and Shakespeare did mention stopping by the Germains before going home for good," she amended. "They're going to help them rebuild their house. We left it a mess last time we were over there. Machiavelli might have told you about that." Billy nodded sagely, having dragged the story of Machiavelli's Paris problems from him while the others were settling into their rooms..
Nicholas spoke up last. "I've been looking into the Codex, specifically the part that concerns Machiavelli's condition." Nicholas finished.
Billy sat up straighter. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Nicholas nodded. He looked over at the American. "I can tell you about it. I'd like to talk to you about it first before I say anything to Machiavelli."
"Sure," Billy agreed. He checked his watch. "I'm going to pull the kid out of the tub now. Why don't you come up with me and after he's set we can talk?" Nicholas pulled himself up off the porch swing and followed the American back into the house.
~MB~
"Hey, old man, you're still awake." Billy smiled wide at the Italian. Nicholas followed the American into the bathroom. Leaning over the tub, Billy pulled the stopper out of the bathtub and let the water drain away. "I thought for sure you'd be conked out by now," he murmured, keeping a steady flow of conversation.
"Mmm," Machiavelli was fading fast. As the last of the water left the tub, Billy scooped him up and turned.
"Can you grab a towel?" Billy asked Nicholas, nodding in the direction of the closet. The Frenchman picked up a blue one off the top and followed Billy into the Italian's room. Billy accepted it with thanks, sitting Machiavelli in his lap as he toweled the boy off.
Nicholas slipped his fingers under the golden chain around Machiavelli's neck. His lips moved as he read the words on the pendant. The Italian looked at him defiantly, knowing that Nicholas would easily understand the words. But Nicholas let it fall from his hand, with the murmur that Billy had good taste. Billy grinned wide, pulling one of his long t-shirts over the boy's head. "I know," he acknowledged.
Machiavelli was now so tired that he seemed to go absolutely boneless. Billy hefted him into bed and pulled him down slightly so that he was comfortably in the bed. "See," Nicholas told him, watching the two interact. "You've only gotten better."
Billy smiled. "It's good of you to say that. But I have no clue what I'm doing half of the time." They looked down at Machiavelli's slumbering form. Billy's face grew serious. "You want to talk now?"