December dawned cold and gray mid-week, another dusting of snow turning the entire city a shade of white. Statues around town looked like they were emerging from a curtain of fog, so all-encompassing was the lack of color around them. Machiavelli and Billy got up earlier in the morning than the others to take the dog for a walk and to talk freely. After their first passionate night, they'd returned to a much slower pace, happy to fall in love without a hurry.

Machiavelli was glad that they'd decided to take it slower. The thought of having sex with the younger immortal, though very exciting, also made him incredibly nervous. He wasn't sure if he was ready to begin having sex again just yet, especially sex with a man, something he'd never done before. He was content for now to wake up to morning kisses and late night cuddling. And sometimes, as they were falling asleep, Billy would touch him, trailing his fingers over the hills and valleys of Machiavelli's body, gentle and sure.

With Perenelle looking better, they began to make plans to travel down to Kansas. Billy had finally gotten a call in to Fred; he hadn't been sure the Chickasaw immortal would have his phone on, but was pleasantly surprised to find that his old friend had answered right away. Black Hawk had been right- the old gunslinger had agreed to join them without much prompting. Machiavelli wondered if Fred missed the outlaw; he knew both Native American immortals were inordinately fond of his boyfriend.

Scatty went with them when they went up to fetch the Native American, perhaps wanting to spend some time with them where they could all talk freely. They'd talked some during their dinner with Jill, but the Italian immortal had the feeling that Scatty had held back. She wasn't now, however.

"So you two have kissed?" she asked, before they had even gotten off their road.

Billy grinned into his rear-view mirror. "Yeah, quite a bit." Reaching out a hand to Machiavelli, he touched the other man's shoulder. "Mac's a good kisser."

"He's actually being very kind," the Italian protested. "It's been years since I've really kissed anybody… I'm not very good at it."

"Could have fooled me. Besides, that's why we're practicing," Billy joked. His eyes crinkled with happiness, he scanned the skies. "Good thing we're getting Fred today. It's going to snow soon. A Chippewa friend of Black Hawk's taught me how to predict these things. I love you, Mac," he added, suddenly. "Sorry, Scatty. We don't get to say it too much."

"It's okay," she said, smiling back at them slightly. She was much shyer than she usually was suddenly, as though she felt like she was encroaching on their relationship.

Billy glanced at the Italian immortal. He noticed that sometimes he was the only one telling the other man that he loved him. He didn't doubt that Machiavelli did love him, but wondered what it meant when the other immortal was silent. Niccolo had been looking out the windows too, but he looked over now. Billy wondered how he knew to do that.

Smiling faintly, Machiavelli reached out his hand. Holding Billy's, he kissed the knuckles. The outlaw felt a warm explosion in the pit of his stomach. His heart still beat faster each time the tactician touched him. "I do love you too," Niccolo said, quietly but steadily. "Don't worry."

Billy squeezed his hand before letting go. "I wasn't worried," he said, taking the exit. "I'm never worried with you." But he was glad that Machiavelli had said it again to him, needed his reassurances. It was too early to take such things for granted.

The trees were getting thicker now as they moved farther away from the interstate. The Thunderbird struggled to get up one particularly steep slope. Billy grumbled and shook the wheel slightly, trying to grab onto the road.

"Have you considered, caro," Machiavelli began, "getting a winter vehicle? I only ask," he added hurriedly, "because this car- your baby- it's going to have trouble with a northern winter, I think."

"I sometimes will rent a car if I'm staying in New England," Billy said reluctantly. He patted the dashboard, feeling like he was betraying an old friend. "But I love my Thunderbird…"

"Kid, we're freezing," Scatty called from the backseat. "I could cut glass with my nipples. What?" she said defensively, cause they both looked back at her after that one.

"Look at the road," Machiavelli ordered the outlaw, still making a face at Scathach who arched an eyebrow back at both of them. "Or we'll all die today."

"I would never crash. It would ruin my car. Oh, and you guys," he added quickly.

"Don't kill your boyfriend."

"Look, there's a sign for the reservation," he said, pointing to it as they passed. "It's five miles away, now."

Scatty must have felt that they were running out of time to talk freely. She leaned forward again, propping her arm on Machiavelli's seat. "So why haven't you told anybody?"

Machiavelli glanced over at the Kid quickly. "Well, we thought-."

"I wanted to keep it quiet just for now," Billy corrected. He was quiet as he took a side road. "Cause I really do love Mac- I really do, Mac- but… I don't know how the others will react."

She quirked her eyebrow. "What, like the Flamels? They're not going to care."

"Well, them, yes, but also Black Hawk…" he mumbled, sending a quick glance over to Machiavelli. The Italian immortal thought his partner looked rather guilty, but he didn't think the American immortal had anything to be ashamed of. He wanted to point that out, but Scatty was still talking and he was hoping that she'd be able to sort out some of the Kid's issues.

"Black Hawk's your best friend," she pointed out. "Don't you think you're not giving him enough credit? I mean sure, he comes across as super macho, but…" she trailed off. "He loves you. Even if he doesn't show it. He'd want to know."

Billy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Maybe. What do you think, Mac?"

Niccolo looked over at him. "You take your time, Billy. I won't love you any less."

The look on Billy's face was enough to convince him that he was doing what was right. He really didn't want the Kid to do anything that he wasn't completely comfortable with. Scatty broke into his musings. "I can't believe you finally told each other," she said.

Machiavelli's heart still seemed to be beating faster than normal. Turning in his seat, he grinned back at her. "Billy had to be brave for both of us. I would never have said anything."

They were pulling down an icy road now and Machiavelli knew they must be close. He was beginning to recognize some of the landmarks around them. Billy looked over at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to ruin our relationship if you didn't feel the same way. Scatty told me I should tell you."

"I did," she said from the backseat.

"Yeah, she told me that too," Billy agreed, grinning at her in the mirror. "Do I get bonus points for following your advice?"

"Yeah, there will be something extra in your stocking," she said tartly. "So, are you having sex?"

Machiavelli made an odd coughing noise. "You can't just ask people that," he argued with her, covering his face slightly behind his hand.

"We're messing around," Billy chimed in happily. "He really is big, Scatty. Well, you are." He said, catching the horrified expression on Machiavelli's face. "Oh, you don't want to tell her about the touching thing? She can probably guess. We share a bed." He looked in the mirror again. "He's my Italian Stallion, Scatty!"

Machiavelli smacked him on the arm and he yipped a little, laughing uproariously. Scatty giggled uncharacteristically at the look on Machiavelli's face. "We're here!"

"Cheer up," she told the Italian, climbing out after him. "He's excited by your physique."

"Yes, well, good…" he mumbled, still feeling rather shy about all this. "Doesn't mean he needs to spread it around to everyone on the planet," he called ahead to the American.

Billy walked backwards, smiling at him. "I had to tell Scatty. I can't tell anyone else. And I've got to brag, Mac, cause that's just in my nature."

Machiavelli scoffed, but there was a smile on his lips as they walked up to the door. He took Scatty's arm, feeling pleasantly light. They could see Fred and other members of the reservation waiting up ahead. He understood exactly what Billy had meant. He wanted to tell everyone too. They'd have to figure something out. For now, it would have to be enough that he had Billy, and that Scatty knew.

~MB~

Billy threw his arms around Fred the moment they were within distance of each other. Squeezing him in what looked like a tight embrace, they pivoted. Fred was smiling at the outlaw. "I missed you, scarecrow," he said, kissing Billy's forehead.

"Ah, I've missed you too. How could you leave so soon after we just started seeing each other again?" Billy asked him, hanging on to the Native American's arm.

"Just trying to get away from the mangy cur Black Hawk," Fred joked. Glancing away from Billy, he smiled at Scatty and Machiavelli. "I see you brought your favorites with you."

"Naturally," Billy agreed happily. "Hey, is Mary here? I wanted to see her again, thank her, you know."

"Sure, I can bring you to her." Walking up the path, they made their way to the house by the sweat lodge once more. Scatty looked around curiously and Machiavelli remembered that she hadn't been here before. He slowed so that he could walk beside her. Up ahead of them, Fred had knocked on the ranch style house and as they approached, the door opened to reveal the medicine woman who had cured the outlaw when they'd last visited. Billy ducked his head as he looked up at her, peering out at her from under his fringe.

"Hello," he said shyly, bending to take her hand.

"You look much better, child," she said, smiling at him as she looked him over. "The weight is off you."

Billy looked confused by this, but he glanced over at Machiavelli, who leaned against the wall and smiled at him. The corners of his mouth curved in return. Machiavelli was surprised himself; had Billy been in love with him even then, when they'd dropped Fred off at the reservation? They followed her into the little house; Fred sat at a desk that was clearly set aside for him. Machiavelli made a mental note to ask Billy about all this later; meanwhile, the others had been talking and he forced himself to focus.

Fred had been showing Scatty his notes so far on the tribe's history. Machiavelli pushed off from the wall and came to sit with them, listening to the Native American immortal discussing how the language had changed, how some words had been lost, and their efforts to restore a historical sense of understanding. "You must have experienced some of this," Fred said, seeing Machiavelli listening. "You're much older than I am."

The Italian nodded, though he was hesitant to admit that he was older than Fred, who was similar in age with his boyfriend. "Yes, well, the priorities and reasons why we use language has changed. You have some cultures which sternly try to preserve- the French, for example- and others which change and proliferate rapidly. Italian has undergone some changes, over the years." Looking up, he met eyes with the Kid.

Billy's eyes were bright. He was curious, that was obvious. Machiavelli waited for him to ask his question, knowing that the American immortal was probably brimming with dozens of inquiries. "How much has it changed? Italian, I mean."

Machiavelli laughed a little. "In my time, Italian was a very divided language, composed of many different dialects. You could move from one city to another and there would be a very different understanding of the same shared words, meaning that it was rather easy to identify someone's background based solely on how they spoke. There are still those differences today, especially in rural areas, but they are less so now than they were before. Is this interesting?"

"Yes," Billy said, brushing his fingers over the man's arm as if he was unable to stop himself. The Kid blinked and smiled, before sitting on his hand. He cast a guilty look over at the Chickasaw immortal.

"We could talk for hours about the complexities of languages and their evolution," Fred said gently. There was a glimmer of understanding in the way he looked at them, but he said nothing. "But we can talk about those in the car. I'm sure you want to get back to the city before it's too late."

"I don't want to rush you," Billy protested. "We've got plenty of time."

Fred laughed. Reaching out a hand, he tousled the hair on his head. "You're such a good kid, Billy. I missed you terribly, all those years I thought you were dead. I'll show you around, introduce you to some people. Then we can go. I'm only taking a temporary leave from my position here, after all."

They said goodbye to Mary, who watched them with her deep brown eyes. Fred led them around. Some of the people they'd met before on their last visit, but they spoke more now; Machiavelli was glad for Fred's sake that he'd found a group of people who clearly cared for him despite their differences. He was surprised too, to find that these mortals not only knew of Fred's immortality, but had accepted it without question.

Fred seemed to have found a spot in the hearts of the children particularly; they trailed after him as he walked through the reservation, clinging to his hands, and asking when he was coming back and if he was coming back. Billy looked a little guilty as they made their way back to the car finally. They loaded Fred's suitcase in the trunk and backed out carefully. Behind them, there were goodbyes and parting words shouted from the youthful audience they'd left behind.

Machiavelli had joined Scatty in the backseat this time and she'd curled up beside him, leaning against his shoulder as they trundled down the backroads leading to the interstate. Fred and Billy were talking in the front seat, but in the back, the two immortals were quiet. Long car rides always seemed to have that effect on Niccolo. He rested his cheek on the top of Scatty's head, sighing a little.

"You sure you want to come with us?" Billy asked.

"Of course I do. I remember even back when we were just young kids, how much you missed her. I want to help you find her. It'll make up for leaving you alone all these years."

"Aww. You guys are sweet to me…"

"So, how are things going with Black Hawk and Billie, do you think?" Fred asked carefully.

Billy rocked a hand back and forth. "You know how they are. Who can really say?"

"True…"

"It always seems to take less time to get home than to go somewhere," Billy said cheerfully, hours later. It was already dark out, but they could see the metropolis creeping closer to them, buildings popping up at an intensifying rate. Machiavelli was thinking rather longingly of his bed or at least, the couch. He felt very cramped from his day of traveling. Throwing an arm around Scatty, he glanced out the window, his eyes a little unfocused as he let the excitement of the past few days drift through him…

"Mac." Somebody was prodding him. "Mac." It was Scatty.

"What's the matter?" he said, realizing that he hadn't been paying attention for an indeterminate period of time now.

"We're home, silly."

He looked around. "Ah. So we are." They were in the garage in fact. Fred was making his way up the stairs, but Billy was leaning over his seat, a fond smile on his face. "Hiya, honey," Machiavelli rasped.

"Hi, baby," Billy whispered. "You fell asleep."

Machiavelli made his way carefully out of the car. Standing up, he fixed his suit so that it fell straight on him as it should. "So I did," he agreed. Reaching behind him, he helped the Shadow out of the backseat. "Going to be up with Fred and Black Hawk for a while? I'm going to bed."

"Yeah, I'll be up in an hour or so. Don't wait up for me…"