A/N: I'm so sorry this update took so long. I started college classes back in May and Billy's decision to change everything threw me for a loop there for a little bit as well. I do know about how this journey is going to go, and how it will end, so no worries. I'm not leaving this in limbo, never to be finished. That's one of my biggest pet peeves when I'm reading a story and I promise I will never do it to my readers. As always I own nothing but my OC. Enjoy!

"Found some cows," Billy said with a crooked grin over the lowing of said cattle. Their usual buyer eyed the brand on the closest steer and rubbed his hands together. As he should, Chisum beef was the best in the territory. This time around, old John couldn't prove it was them, much less lose his two men, one of them to Jessie's gun.

A chill ran down his spine. Billy knew, he knew, that her taking the shot had led to Chisum throwing his lot in fully with the Ring and banking the bounty on their heads, though he'd never figured out why. What did the man have against them, anyway? They'd all been on the same side back in the Lincoln War.

Before, she had pulled him aside to talk, but this time, Billy did it for her. "What is it?" she asked softly, her eyes studying his face in the livery's dim light. In answer, he dug out the journal and handed it to her. Jessie flipped the blank pages and frowned. "What is this?"

"Our side of the story." His voice caught and he drew in a deep breath. "Or, it will be anyway. Once we write it, all of it, from John's murder up to now. Everything we done, and everything they done. We're going under, but we're still gonna keep our end of the deal with Wallace, even if it means we're giving testimony through a newspaper article. If we have to come back, we will, but I'd rather not." He raked a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. Jessie shifted the journal to one hand and touched his arm.

"What changed?" He swallowed hard. She might be the first, but she wouldn't be the only one to ask that in the coming days. Her gaze locked on his. "Since those bounty hunters, you've been different."

"A little bit," he admitted slowly. "I've had some time to think lately. About a lot of things."

"And?"

"And." He took her hand and squeezed her fingers, happier than he could have imagined when she didn't yank her hand free. "I decided to listen to you." Her head tilted.

"You did?"

"As long as we're alive, the Ring loses. If we can tell our side of the story, they'll fall sooner. If Wallace can't bring them down, maybe the next governor will." Jessie blinked and shook her head slowly. "What?"

"Did you hit your head or something?"

"No."

"Did something happen while you were locked up?"

"No. Why?"

"You're not acting like yourself. Not at all." Billy sighed.

"Maybe I finally did some growing up, Jess. Look, the truth is, I saw that bounty hunter drawing down on you and I …." She drew her hand away and folded her arms over her chest.

"Have you forgotten I'm just as good a shot as you?"

"No! I just … I can't lose you, Jess." He was ruining this, but how else could he explain the difference? "We're all pals, but you … you're the best friend I've ever had." Her eyebrows rose into her hairline.

"I am, huh?" She flipped her braid over her shoulder with a teasing grin. "I seem to recall a time when you wanted to shoot me."

"I was wrong." His throat closed. "But you haven't been, not once since John died." Billy looked around, found a seat on a barrel. "So we're doing things your way, Jess. We're going to Mexico, for real this time." He nodded at the journal in her hands. "So we need to get started on that, then we can leave it with someone who won't throw it in a cook stove."

"We've got the pardons, Billy, isn't that enough?"

"No, Jess," he said softly. "We both know that ass Rynerson won't let us within a mile of a courtroom to tell our side of the story. We'd be shot dead before we could step down from the saddle." Something flickered in her eyes.

"You finally figured it out, didn't you?"

"We're the figureheads, the ones who have to die so no one else will dare stand against them." Even now, he could hear remnants of what would have been said, how hard she would have tried to make him understand why they had to run, but this time, she didn't have to. "Round up the boys, we need to ride." Jessie left the livery, the journal still tucked under her arm, and Billy rubbed a shaking hand over his face and leaned against the rough wall behind his back.

This gamble had to work, it just had to.

Three nights on the trail they spent writing, Doc and Chavez eager to help once Billy explained his reasoning. The four of them sat around the fire after a cold supper, Dave and Tommy sitting on watch while they dredged up old memories, some best left forgotten.

"Garrett led us into a trap," Doc hissed. "He had to know what they were up to, why else would they let him hear anything like that?"

"He thought about drawing on Billy," Jessie said, her eyes glittering dangerously in the firelight. "I wish I'd shot him that night."

"Can't change it now, Jess," Billy said softly. He sighed and stared into the fire, seeing faces in the dancing flames. "You remember Dick that day at Blazer's?" A half laugh escaped. "He wanted to whip my ass."

"The rest of us just wanted to eat in peace," Doc muttered, his arm wrapped around Yen's shoulders. "I think I got half a biscuit down before Buckshot showed up." His face darkened. "And then it all went to hell."

"Again," Jessie spit out.

"Yeah," Billy said sadly. "Again." He rubbed his hands together. "Remember Steve?" He glanced up from the flames, almost able to see their pal sitting there beside Chavez, smiling at them, and swallowed hard. "He didn't even try to escape … kept firing until they killed him." He picked up a rock and pitched it into the night. "How are they the heroes in all this?"

"They won't be for long," Jessie promised, the pen in her hand stilled momentarily on the page. "Not after the world sees this."

"God, I hope so." Billy scraped his hands through his hair. If it worked for Jesse James, who really was a killer, why couldn't it work for them? With their story appearing long before old Pat even thought about writing his book of lies, the Ring would be left scrambling at the gate. He dug the newspaper out of his pocket and handed it to Doc. He'd thought about waiting until tomorrow morning, like had happened before, but time was of the essence. Even if Doc's initial reaction was worth repeating. What'd they do this time, spell your name wrong? "They've sicced a new sheriff on us, boys." His heart sank. How could Pat go through with it? "Goes by the name of Patrick Floyd Garrett."

Stunned silence met his announcement as they crowded closer to Doc, peering over his shoulder as he scanned the page. "Why the hell did he do that?" Doc looked up, confusion burning in his eyes. Billy sighed.

"Playing the game, Doc." He ran a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding Chavez's piercing look. The man knew things, he'd always known things. Hadn't he warned him all the way back in Juarez that Jessie was doomed? No, could have been doomed, not necessarily was, until their choices had sealed her fate. He just couldn't know this. "We'll give him a game all right." But, it wouldn't be the one old Pat was expecting.

"Billy!" Tommy's shout was followed by gunfire, and the night exploded. The regulators shot to their feet, pistols at the ready, and dove into the darkness beyond the fire. The horses shrieked; someone kicked sand over the flames, leaving them to fight by moonlight.

Who was it? Garrett couldn't be close enough … Poe hadn't thoroughly pissed him off yet … the posse was still dragging its heels. Then Billy remembered the man called Bay and shuddered. "Skin out!" Bullets chewed the earth near him and he dove for cover.

Where was the bounty hunter? Billy fired several random shots and rolled sideways, scrambling for the horses. Yen screamed and his heart stopped. Please no … Hooves thundered away and he glanced up, but couldn't tell who it was.

Someone landed next to him and he jumped, until Jessie's braid slid over his arm, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The look on her face was murderous. "I'm gonna kill that bastard if I ever lay eyes on his rotten hide again," she spit through her teeth while firing off a round, and he knew who'd turned tail.

"This time I'll let you," he promised. "We gotta get out of here first. Yen?"

"Fine. There's only one gun out there, whoever it is, they're either overconfident or stupid –"

"Or both," they finished in unison, and his heart swelled with emotion. Even now, the joy of knowing she was alive overpowered the possibility he could lose her tonight to a lucky shot. A whistle rang out and the rifle turned on Chavez. They leaped out of the shallow ditch and scrambled for the horses.

Thank God he'd decided to leave them saddled at night.

"Let's go!" Doc and Yen were already galloping away, Tommy on their heels. Chavez and Jessie formed up around Billy and the three of them bolted, gunfire clawing at the dirt beside the horse's hooves.

It stopped as suddenly as it had begun, a lone voice tinged with disgust filling the air over the sound of racing hooves. "Your days are numbered, Kid!"

Bay lowered his rifle, his hands shaking with rage. If that fool kid hadn't of spotted him, he'd have had them, both of them, an easy two thousand dollar bounty, plus whatever Lincoln or the governor would scrape up for the rest of the so-called "regulators." He swore and turned back to the smoking remnants of the fire. So close, and he might as well have never tried. He swore again and scraped a hand through his hair.

He needed them. Without the names of Bonney and Dolan attached to his, he'd forever be one among many, no one special, no one worthy of anyone's notice. Bay was tired of being overlooked, so what if he was only twenty-three? Men had been famous far younger, look at Jesse James; men had trembled at the mention of his name when he was barely sixteen, and he'd been nothing but a Missouri farm boy. Why couldn't the son of a Texas blacksmith do one better?

Bay knew he'd never get within a mile of James, or the Youngers, or the Daltons, but Billy the Kid … he was the real prize, at least here in the Territory. Add in the Dolan girl and Bay knew he'd be set for life if he could be the one to bring them down. The papers would sing his praises, everyone would know his name, and he'd never be overlooked again.

He'd made a mistake tonight, moving before they'd been on the trail long enough to let down their guard, but he wouldn't do that again. He glanced back towards Lincoln and squinted into the gloom. The new sheriff and his posse wouldn't be far behind him and the man couldn't be allowed to steal his glory.

Bay crossed the destroyed camp and studied the lone set of tracks tearing off by themselves. Garrett had the advantage right now, having ridden with the Kid and Dolan for over a year before he turned on them, which was its own level of low as far as Bay was concerned. You were either a friend or an enemy, not both. He might pull some low-down stunts himself, but befriending a man with the intent to turn on him later was reprehensible.

He whistled for his horse and the animal trotted over. He needed information. And he knew just where to get it. He swung into the saddle and began to track the blood trail across the desert.

The sun was just inching over the horizon when he came upon the man sprawled in the sand beside his waiting horse. Bay stopped his horse and thumbed back his hat. "Don't look too good for you, fella." The man on the ground moaned and rolled his head, reaching weakly for a pistol next to him. Bay studied his face and nodded. So he'd guessed right. "Bet this isn't how you pictured yourself going out, huh, Rudabaugh?"

"You'll answer to Billy for killing me," he choked. Bay smirked and looked around.

"I don't see anyone riding up to avenge you." Dave laughed and blood trickled past his lips, a flicker of emotion there and gone in his eyes. He choked on another laugh.

"Jessie hates me … always has." He coughed. "Called me a weasel … said I'd leave 'em … save my own hide." Bay raised an eyebrow but managed to refrain from pointing out the obvious. The man already knew it anyway, judging by the look on his face.

"Where are they going?" Dave's face shuttered and he clawed for the pistol, but he had no strength left to grasp it.

"Go to hell."

"If that's where they're headed, I will."

"You'll never get them," Dave coughed. "If you're not a regulator, they'll never trust you. She can smell a trap ten miles away, and … both of 'em can … can shoot the wings off a fly with either hand." Bay shook his head.

"A fly, huh?" Dave nodded painfully, his face twisting. Bay dismounted and grabbed his canteen off the saddle horn. "You want some water?"

"Yeah." The man clutched at his chest, blood trickling between his fingers. From the looks of it, he didn't have too much longer left. Bay knelt and tipped the canteen, letting water spill into Dave's mouth, but the man turned his head away after a few swallows. "Thanks," he rasped.

"Easy enough to help a man when he's dying." Bay capped the canteen and sat down a couple feet away, his back to a rock. "You want people to know your name, Rudabaugh? Everybody will want to know your first hand account of Billy the Kid and Jessica Dolan." He studied his hands. "They won't be able to talk about them without mentioning you." Dave gave a harsh chuckle and Bay shrugged. "Deathbed account, too. It'll be taken as gospel."

"They'll have to mention you, too, friend," Dave hissed. "But why the hell not." He dragged in a harsh breath and blood dripped onto the sand. "It ain't like the papers said …" He choked on a laugh. "Billy wants her all right, but she'd as soon shoot him first." Bay's eyebrows rose.

"She's not his woman?" Dave laughed until he gasped for air.

"No one ever listens …" He tilted his head and gave Bay a bloody smirk. "Whatever the papers … done said … was a lie." He eyed Bay. "You wanna know the truth? Go … go to … Fort Sumner." A groan slipped through his teeth and he clutched at his chest with a gasp. "Bandit King and … and Queen … of the … the Southwest … my … my ass." He moaned again and lay still, the light in his eyes fading to nothing. Bay nudged the man's boot, but there was no response. He got up and checked for any sign of life, then straightened, staring down at the dead man on the sand.

"Regulators!" He glanced back to the south, seeing her tearing up the street that night in Lincoln, rifle spitting flame as she rushed him head on. The firelight had tangled in her hair and he could imagine how it would have reflected in her eyes had he been close enough to see it.

So she'd sooner shoot Bonney than bed him. No surprise the papers had gotten it wrong, they only wanted to sell copies, so they wrote what sold. She was older than the Kid, too, by a year or so if he remembered correctly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

This was supposed to be business, kill two outlaws, make his name, and get paid. They'd earned their fate long before he entered the picture, and if it wasn't him that pulled the trigger it would be someone else, more than likely Pat Garrett, or that arrogant ass Poe. He'd much rather it be Bay Firestone that went down in history.

Dave Rudabaugh was a good start, but that was all it was. He needed more if he wanted to make his own name. He stuffed his hat on his head and set about wrapping the dead man in his bedroll and tying him onto his saddle. He'd deliver Rudabaugh to the closest town with a sheriff and a telegraph, and then he'd resume his hunt for the Kid and Dolan.

He'd go to Fort Sumner all right. After he brought the two of them back from Mexico draped over their saddles.