"Can we go out to the countryside?" Billy asked the next morning. "I want to see the leaves before they all fall."
"You want to take a drive around the backroads?"
Billy both nodded and shook his head. "Can we go hiking?"
"What about your arm?"
The Kid clucked impatiently. "I don't walk on my arm," he said impatiently. "All of Saturday, I was on a bus or in a car. Sunday we got out a little. Yesterday I slept a lot. Don't I deserve some exercise? Please, Mac."
"I can't stop you, if that's what you want to do." Still, the Italian immortal had misgivings. Billy had looked rather pale and drawn since coming back.
"Oh, but Mac, I want you with me. And Scatty, too. She'll come. Please, say you will."
That was enough for Niccolo. He'd never been able to resist Billy's pleas, from the very start of their relationship. "I suppose you have a certain place in mind," he said shrewdly.
Billy brightened. "I do. I'll get the map."
"I'll go let Scatty know. See if she wants to come along. But Billy," he said sternly, stopping in the doorway and facing him again. "I don't want you over exerting yourself. If I see you getting tired, I want us to go home."
The outlaw grinned. "Yes, sir."
Truthfully, Machiavelli had been a bit bored himself, staying inside the past few days. The days were clear, if a little gray, and the leaves on their street alone were beautiful. Paris was very pretty in the fall, even he'd been able to see that, but there was something different about the riotous color of the American East Coast, leaves forming a solid carpet below their feet when they walked on the sidewalk.
And besides, he was happiest when planning for something. Though a simple hiking trip didn't have the same complexities of a war stratagem, he felt responsible for Billy's health and wellbeing, especially after having been cared for by the man for months on end. With this in mind, he began to make a list of what he wanted them to bring. Scatty helped him gather supplies, agreeing with him that they should bring the bandages and an extra blanket or two; both immortals felt that Billy might be pushing his luck, mere days after getting horribly mangled.
Glancing up at the sky one more time, Machiavelli made the last minute decision to grab an extra change of clothing for each of them. He filled a duffel bag, grabbing some of Scatty's clothes out of the dryer, and throwing it all in the trunk for later. He went back upstairs to find the two American immortals waiting for him by the door. "Are we going now?" he asked.
"Billy wants to grab lunch from down the road first."
He nodded. "Do you want us to come with you?" he called to the American immortal.
"Nah, I'll be right back," Billy said, spinning on the sidewalk to give them a wave, before turning back around.
Machiavelli turned around instead to look at the Shadow. "What are you thinking about?"
"I was thinking that if I stand on this step, and you stay there, we're the same height Niccolo," Scatty pointed out. They watched Billy talking animatedly with the other people waiting in line. "How you feeling?"
Niccolo shrugged. "A little up and down," he admitted. "We were up late talking last night."
"That's good, boo," she said.
He made a face. "It is and it isn't. The more we talk the more I know that I love him and that he doesn't feel the same way."
"Maybe you need to make him aware that you're looking for more than just friendship."
He quirked his eyebrows. "Want me to bring more women home?" She cuffed him on the head. "Okay, okay, what are you suggesting?"
She was about to answer him when she caught sight of Billy finishing up at the street vendor. "Do you think you're ever going to tell him how you feel?"
"Maybe," he said idly. "Maybe not, it's hard to say. Now, if I stand on that step and you take my spot, you come up to my waist. So don't get too cocky," he advised with a little grin. "I'll always be taller than you."
She leaned over, resting her arms on his shoulders. "I wish I was taller sometimes," she admitted thoughtfully. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course, but what-?"
She kissed him before he knew what was happening, not a quick peck, but a full lip lock. He could tell she was smiling and he didn't know what she was doing, or what her plan was, but it wasn't unpleasant, kissing her. "What are you doing?" he asked, breaking the contact.
They heard the sound of keys hitting the sidewalk. Backing up, Machiavelli saw Billy, trying to pick up his keys and hold the bag of food at the same time. "I've got to go help him," he told Scatty, before striding over to the American. "Drop your keys?" he asked redundantly, stooping to grab them.
"Ya- Yeah. What are you two doing?"
"Ah, friendly kiss," Machiavelli said bemusedly, not really sure himself what was going on anymore, but feeling pleasantly warm. It occurred to him that he had missed intimacy all these years. Still, he had a feeling that Scatty was running a play and it was far more risky than any he'd ever commit to…
Billy looked like he wanted to say something more on the matter, but they'd come back to stand in front of the house. "You kissing my guy, Scat?"
"Ownership traded hands last week. He's my guy now," she teased, grabbing the bag of food. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah, but wait, listen Scatty…" Billy said trailing the Shadow into the car. He got in the driver's seat, so Machiavelli sat beside him in the front and away they went.
Watching him desperately spinning the wheel with one arm in order to get out onto the road, Machiavelli knew he was going to have to drive them back. As it was, this seemed like a bad idea now to let the American immortal drive with his one good arm, but it seemed to have been an unconscious choice on the Kid's part. He listened to Billy and Scatty banter back and forth, both claiming to be the one most liked by him.
"I'm your favorite right?" Scatty finally asked him, tapping him on the shoulder.
"Don't be serious, he loves me best," Billy affirmed. Getting into the middle lane, they shot forward in the traffic.
Machiavelli laughed nervously. "I love both of you."
"Are you the jealous type?" she asked the Kid, learning forward.
"No, well, okay, yeah."
"But you don't really have a claim to our Italian friend here."
Billy took the interstate out. "No, well, I guess that's true, but…" He trailed off, merging perfectly with the oncoming traffic. Machiavelli was greatly interested in what the American immortal wasn't saying.
"Anyways," Scatty said comfortably, sitting back in her seat. "I was just kissing Niccolo for the fun of it. He's a good kisser. And it's been a while."
"How often have you two kissed?" Billy asked in surprise.
"Couple times; we had to fool the neighbor girl after all…"
"There are other ways to do that," he argued.
"I suppose so," Machiavelli broke in to the conversation. "What would you have us do, fuck against the window?"
"What, no," Billy yelped. "Let's talk about something else… Aren't the trees nice guys? Guys, please?"
"It's very pretty," Machiavelli said smoothly. It is very pretty, he thought to himself, enjoying the scenery. A lot of the trees in the city were beginning to shed their leaves already, but here in the rolling countryside, the trees still had riotous color. "Do you have a plan for where we're going or are you just cruising?"
"Cruising," Billy proclaimed happily. "Let's put the top down," he decided suddenly, pulling off the road at his first chance. "We don't get to see the sun too much, in the city. Not enough, anyways!"
Getting out, Machiavelli helped him, making sure that the American immortal didn't tax his damaged limb.
They drove for over an hour. Machiavelli began to wonder if they were going to be able to find their way home, but he trusted the American immortal enough to not question it. Besides, he reflected, these two are like a pair of fucking bloodhounds, sniffing out their trail.
"This looks like as good a place as any," Billly commented at last, pulling onto a side road. A sign told them they were entering Nockamixon state park. Parking in the main area, they all sighed in relief, but for differing reasons.
"How's your arm?" Machiavelli asked him, getting out and coming around to his side.
"Hurt's a little. It's hard to drive with one arm."
"Do you want to go back?"
Billy looked at them with wide eyes. "We haven't gone camping yet," he pointed out, sounding mortally wounded. "That's why we've come here."
Scatty and Machiavelli exchanged a glance. "Okay, but let's not hike all day," Scatty ordered, handing Billy the hoodie she'd been holding. "Put this on.'
Billy had been getting quiet, the past day or so, but now he chattered incessantly. Twice, he took Machiavelli's hand fondly, squeezing it before letting go. His head moved as though on a swivel- he seemed to notice things that Machiavelli and Scatty were immune to; namely beautiful flowers, small animals, and discarded sneakers. They chose a path carving into the wood, the water's edge just barely within their sight line, sometimes walking in companionable silence.
"Let's stop here, for a bit," Machiavelli suggested finally. They'd come across a long disused stone wall. He sat down gingerly. "Aren't you hungry, Billy?"
"I am," he agreed readily. Climbing next to the tall immortal, he leaned on his companion. "I don't like our neighbor," he said suddenly and with such force, that the other two immortals were quite surprised.
"What, Missy? She's a bit annoying, but what's she done to you?" Machiavelli asked, laughing. "You've only been back a day or so."
"I just don't like her," the Kid said restlessly. He sat up straight, kicking out at a pile of leaves.
Why, though? Machiavelli wondered, intrigued. Last time we talked on the phone about her, Billy was amused. It must have been what happened this morning that got him riled up. But why?
"She's pretty annoying," Scatty agreed.
~MB~
Billy was whistling away. He goose stepped up the trail, Machiavelli and Scatty trudging behind him. Looking back, he seemed surprised to find some considerable distance between them. Turning around, he shuffled back down. "What's the matter?"
"Billy, it's raining," Scatty pointed out. Machiavelli felt she had a right to use the indignant tone which she did. The American immortal didn't seem to have noticed that for the last hour or so, there was a faint but steady drizzle working its way down through the leaves.
"Oh," he said, looking up. He smiled. "I like walking in the rain. I didn't really think about it. Why didn't you say something earlier?"
Machiavelli opened his mouth and closed it again. He knew that he'd never say no to the American immortal. "It hasn't been so bad. I kind of liked it too."
Billy smiled at him. "You're a good guy to lie to me, Mac. I just liked being outside for a while. I've just been cooped up in Jeeps and on buses for the past couple of days." He held his arm to his torso but bounced happily on his feet. "We can head back now, guys. It's going to take a while to get back."
So saying, he turned in the direction they'd just been coming from and made to go that way. Looking at each other, Scatty and Machiavelli exchanged a glance. "Come on, Billy," Scatty said with a sigh. "It's not that bad out. We can continue for a while yet." She tugged on his good arm.
"We'll only go for a half hour more then we can turn around," he said, throwing himself on her. He tottered, losing his footing on the uneven ground and she had to seize him around the waist to pull him back upright. "I'll be careful!" he promised before they could remonstrate him in any way.
He let go of Scatty and sidled up next to the Italian immortal. They padded through the undergrowth, Machiavelli settling his hand on Billy's shoulder to keep a steady watch on him. "So, Mac," Billy said cheerfully. "I missed a couple of growth spurts, true, but do you plan on keep on growing? Cause it's starting to get ridiculous."
"This is my full height," Machiavelli assured him. "I'm only maybe half a foot taller than you."
"Is everything else its full size?"
Scatty smacked him in the back of the head. "Billy!"
"It's a fair question," he defended himself. "Did you see his Italian sausage?" He ducked, laughing. "I'm sorry, Mac," he apologized again. "I was just trying to get a rise out of her," he explained.
The Italian nodded, but didn't trust himself to speak. He could feel his face burning. "I've been wondering how long it would take you to get to that name."
"You can call me any nasty name you want to," Billy said fairly. He waggled his eyebrows, making Niccolo laugh despite himself.
"There's nothing I can say to make you feel bad. You're incorrigible."
"Thanks, I've been trying."
They reached a fork in the trail. One path continued on through the forest. The other lead towards a little lake. Billy looked at a sign for kayak rentals and turned to Machiavelli. He opened his mouth. "Mac."
"No."
"Scatty?" She also shook her head. "It's the rain thing?"
"It's the you've got one arm and yes it's raining thing," Machiavelli pointed out.
"I think it's closed anyways," Billy agreed. Still, he trotted towards the squat little cabin on the edge of water. The other immortals had no choice but to follow him. "Kayaking season might be over."
He looked disappointed, so Machiavelli swallowed the smart alec remark he'd been tempted to say. "We can go kayaking next year," he said, rubbing his hands together against the cold. He felt damp; Scatty, he knew was mostly impervious to the broader spectrum of temperatures, but didn't like to be wet. "Billy?" he asked, following the American immortal who was tracking the footprints of some bird. "Can we-?"
"We can head back, Mac, sure," Billy said immediately. He stepped carefully around the tracks, careful not to smudge them and came back to their little group. "Did I ever tell you about the time I pranked Black Hawk?" he asked them.
"What did you do?"
"I- get this-," Billy was laughing hard, "I was living with him at the time and every time he went out somewhere, I'd take apart his phone and put another penny or a quarter in or something and put it back together. So he gradually got used to the weight of it. Then one day, I just took them all out."
"Oh my god, Billy."
"He nearly ripped the phone off the wall, him with all his brawn, honestly." The others couldn't help but laugh, Billy's laughter infectious and the thought of the muscular Native American immortal falling victim to his trick too much.
The Kid's story reminded Machiavelli that he'd been meaning to ask Billy something. "Do you know when Black Hawk's going to arrive here?"
Billy shrugged. "He promised he'd call when he was starting to head up, but no, he didn't say specifically when. I think he'll be coming up with a few people though… but they wanted to stop at a whole string of saloons and rodeos and bars so they might lose a few people along the way."
"Are they all still together in one group?"
Billy shook his head. "When I broke off from them, it was Black Hawk, Jesse Evans, Billy Morton, and Fred Waite. I'm hoping that Jesse and Billy don't come up."
"Why, you don't like them?" Machiavelli asked, wondering in his head if these were the ones who'd given the Kid a hard time about their phone calls.
Billy shrugged. He rubbed the back of his neck, mulling it over. "I don't hate them," he said mildly. "But they can get kind of wild. It was different in the sixties when the apartment was a shithole place to be, but now that it's our home, I don't want them causing too much trouble."
"What kind of trouble do you think they would cause?" Scatty called from behind them.
The outlaw laughed. "I don't know," he admitted. "They might be on their best behavior for all I know, or they might tear the chandelier of the ceiling- accidentally, of course- but they might do it."
Machiavelli felt a twinge of foreboding. If Billy was afraid of what they might do, he definitely didn't want the extra company. "I guess we'll just have to have a contingency plan in place in case they just show up out of the blue."
"Mm, well that's half the reason I swung up here before them, was to get a bed to sleep in," Billy joked. "I'll try to give Black Hawk a call tonight, see what's up."
"You came running back cause you missed us," Scatty declared.
"Well, that's true. One of you at least. Oops, ouch," Billy muttered. He had slipped on some slick leaves, the rain having accumulated enough moisture to do some damage now. Landing heavily on his knee, he only prevented himself from falling down by grabbing onto Machiavelli's pants at the last minute.
"Are you alright, Billy?" Machiavelli asked, grabbing the outlaw's hand. He reached down and wrapped his arms around Billy's waist, trying to pull him to his feet.
"Fine, fine," Billy said apologetically. "My balance isn't quite what it is normally."
Scatty came around to his other side and together they wrenched him back into an upright position. "But you're still having fun, it seems."
"I had so much fun today," Billy agreed eagerly. He sneezed. "Sorry," he said to Machiavelli, whose hand he'd sneezed on. The Italian discretely wiped his hand on Billy's pants. "I like the occasional rainy day."
"Billy, you're one in a million."
"No, really, I do. And it's good sleeping weather. I'm going to sleep so good tonight…"
"What do you do when we sleep?" Machiavelli asked Scathach curiously.
She shrugged. "I sketch a lot," she admitted reluctantly. "And sometimes I meditate. Mostly, I practice with my aura."
"Mac's going to teach me how to use my aura better," Billy told her. He snapped his fingers and a warm, bluish purple flame flickered to life in his cupped hands. "My friend Charlie just taught me how to do this. Here, it'll warm you up, querido."
Machiavelli looked up, surprised that Billy was talking to him. The American immortal tipped the flames into the tactician's palm, his hand grazing the Italian immortal's long fingers. "This little flame generates a lot of heat," he commented, feeling his clothes, damp from the rain, begin to steam off.
Billy nodded excitedly. "He learned it himself from some Indians who have to cross through the Great Basin Desert." He produced another ball of fire for Scatty. "There's our car!" They let the flames flicker out as they approached.
They were, unsurprisingly, the only ones still parked at the park entrance. Feeling the wind begin to pick up behind them, they ran to the car. Scatty ducked in first, climbing in the backseat. Billy surprised Machiavelli by climbing into the passenger seat. "You can drive us home, can't you, dear?" he asked, gazing up at the tall immortal.
Machiavelli licked his lips nervously. "Sure," he said, feigning confidence. He leaned in through the door. "Want your dry clothes?" he asked Scatty.
"When did you pack clothes for me?"
"Mac's like a Boy Scout, semper fi," Billy broke in.
"Sure, whatever you've got for me."
"Hey, Mac?"
"I packed some clothes for you too," Machaivelli affirmed. Opening the trunk, he rifled through the dufflebag, grabbing a long sleeve top and sweatpants for Scatty. Billy's going to have a much harder time changing, he thought, even if his use of his arm is better than it was two days ago. He grabbed a Henley style sweatshirt for the American immortal.
"We'll have to dry out your pants with the heater," he told Billy, tossing the clothes back to Scatty. "Since you need a six foot space to dress yourself these days. Here, I'll help you with the shirt though."
"Is this mine?" Billy asked, fingering the material.
"It is now. I just picked it up at the store the other day."
"You bought me clothes?"
"It's late fall, William, and you have t-shirts and that leather jacket that you and Scatty seem to co-own."
"Mi chaqueta es su chaqueta." Billy looked back at Scatty, realized she was changing, and hurriedly looked forward again. "Why didn't you tell me she was changing?" he remonstrated Machiavelli, pulling off his t-shirt and throwing it on the floor of the car.
"I didn't want to draw attention to it," Machiavelli said smoothly.
"We live together, Billy, you haven't seen me in my bra yet?" Scatty piped in.
"I have now," Billy mumbled. Machiavelli left him to wrestle into the new shirt, crossing in front of the car and climbing in the driver's side. He had to jam himself in, then adjust the seat accordingly, being much taller than the American immortal. He cranked the heat up as high as it would go and cautiously started the car.
"You remember how to drive it, don't you? Cause I can drive if you're not comfortable, Mac."
"He drove me home from the airport the last week. And when we went out of town, the other day."
"I remember still," Machiavelli acknowledged. But he felt tenser, knowing that Billy was his passenger this time, even though he knew in turn that was silly. Billy would never yell at him, no matter what he did. But still, this is Billy's baby. He's had a longer relationship with it than with me. "You're going to guide me though, aren't you?" he asked nervously. I wasn't paying that much attention when we first drove here.
"Course." Billy was already punching the address into his phone and pulling up the GPS system. "Were we really on the road for 2 hours?"
"Yes."
He carefully looked back at her and, finding her fully clothed, turned in his seat to talk with her. "What's the matter, you didn't enjoy my tour up here this morning?"
"I get car sick."
"Do you really? Were you sick this morning?"
"No, I was surprisingly okay."
Machiavelli listened to them prattle back and forth. He was reminded of how Billy had told him he thought of Scatty as a sister- it certainly seemed so.
Billy fell asleep an hour into the ride home. Scatty and Machiavelli talked quietly among themselves. Both had been waiting for the outlaw to crash all day; in fact, it was rather surprising that it had taken this long. Machiavelli hoped that this adventure today would sufficiently tire him out for a couple of days. Only when he started resting was his body going to heal.
Scatty was surprised when he pulled off the road, but, promising he wouldn't be long, Machiavelli left the car running and ran inside the little grocery store he'd noticed on the way over. Coming out, he tossed a bouquet of daisies in the backseat with her, shrugging at her as he didn't know how to explain himself.
